


You're A Girl And I'm A Boy

by prairiestar



Category: Morrissey (Musician), Music RPF, The Smiths
Genre: Angst, Flirting, Gen, Gender Issues, Genderplay, Other, Queer Themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-21
Updated: 2016-08-21
Packaged: 2018-08-10 02:39:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7827160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prairiestar/pseuds/prairiestar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In 1991, Morrissey and his original solo band are touring North America. Lesbian punk-folk singer Phranc tours with them, and she and Morrissey grow close. An exploration of gender, and also grief.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're A Girl And I'm A Boy

For one month, they are always together. 

Sometimes Linder comes back to the hotel room and finds Moz asleep in Phranc's bed, the two of them boxer-clad and shirtless and tangled up at the knees in a nest of sheets. 

Sometimes Al finds them in the dressing room before a show, Moz fussing over Phranc's hair and adding gel while Phranc rolls her eyes and blows little jets of cigarette smoke inoffensively off to the side. 

In LA, they go with Boz to American Vintage in search of 501s. Moz begs Phranc to try on a dress made of emerald green polyester, and a sparkling choker necklace from a box of tangled costume jewelry. She coughs in his direction, unmoved, and he relents and buys her several neckties instead. Boz watches them, and is reminded of the time he gave Lyn roses just because it was a Tuesday.

When Moz knows that someone is watching, he likes to pretend that Phranc is his girl. Ask me to Sadie Hawkins, won't you darling? he implores her. Phranc smirks when he wraps his strong arms around her shoulders, and clasps her protectively to his broad, flat chest. It's a joke in so many ways that she doesn't know what to laugh at first. So she just pulls him down and leans a cheek on his shoulder.

He's the demure one, and ironically the diva as well. She's gruff, aloof and removed. Gaz tries to bounce her breasts in his hands, just to see if they're real! he explains, and she knocks his hands away and tells him to fuck off before she kicks his ass. When she tells Moz about it, he flies into a rage, then almost cries. I don't give a shit, they're just tits, she insists. He calms down, because she asks him to. 

When she knows that no one is watching, Phranc acts as though Moz is a boy in her gang. She lets him bum cigarettes off her, even though his voice is beautiful and she'd die if he wrecked it with smoke. She teaches him to drink, and borrows his favorite shirts without asking. This terrifies her, but she does it anyway because she likes the way they smell on her. When Moz notices his t-shirt draped over a chair in her hotel room, he picks it up and clucks his tongue in annoyance. Naughty boy, he murmurs, and in the same thrilling instant that she realizes he's referring to her, she understands exactly why straight men hurl themselves onto the stage for a chance to touch him. 

She's slept with more people than he has. They talk about sex sometimes, when they're drunk. It's horrid, he moans, and I want nothing to do with it. It's grotesque. But she knows it's mostly a posture, because she's seen him with Alain in the wings, and sometimes with the others. She wonders if he's ever had sex with a woman. She doubts it.

He's been in love, and she hasn't. When they talk about love, it leads to drinking. Moz never names his pain outright, though. The person whose mere existence is the damning proof of all his doomed romantic theories, the subject of all his love songs and the cause of all his misery. Phranc knows who it is. Moz asks her if she thinks she'll ever love someone, and she smiles and says You're the only man I'll ever love, baby and kisses him on the cheek with a loud smack. And loves him, for not making her answer the question.

Moz's body is all long bones and strong, lean muscles. Phranc's body would look angular and hard compared to another woman's, but next to Moz she looks almost curvy. Her face is plain and severe, where his is sensuous. Thank god I wasn't born with your gorgeous face, she tells him. No one would believe I was a dyke. You're too beautiful! He bites his lip and snorts. Doubtful, he scoffs self-consciously. And gazes at her with a soft and mournful look in his eye, when he thinks she isn’t watching. She knows what she looks like, small and dark with a guitar slung around her body. Knows who she looks like, if only superficially.

He gives her books and tells her she can keep them. She tells him about LA and her family, and he refuses to talk about his. They swim in hotel pools when it’s hot, and the lads in the band splash and yell until it gets dark. 

And then it’s just Moz and Phranc one night, sitting on a diving board above Ohio stars reflected on the water’s smooth surface. 

You ever kissed a girl before? She asks him, and he’s smart enough to know what the question implies.

Once, he confesses, and dips his head. Their lips touch. She breaks the contact first. He sighs. I’m sorry. She can hear a roughness in his voice that sounds like tears approaching. I don’t know the first thing, and I must seem... Christ, I despise being a man. I’d like to be a woman, for you.

Would you? She strokes his cheek, which is prickly with stubble. Know what I’d do, if you were mine? His breathing hitches, and this time not with tears. Their unsteady perch is bobbing in the breeze. 

She shifts her weight, bounces, and rolls forward off the board. The roar of passing bubbles fills her ears, and then she surfaces almost before she realizes she’s landed in the water. When she wipes her eyes and looks up, she doesn’t see Moz anywhere.

The next night the show is cancelled, rained out. Around midnight Phranc hears a soft call and a knock on her door.

Brought you a book, Moz says when she opens the door. But there’s nothing in his hands. 

What book? And then he’s kissing her and the door is falling shut behind them. He’s just shaved, she notices. His saliva tastes of mint and cigarettes, and when his large hands roam across her back she feels tiny, and wonders if this is something Johnny feared, being made to feel this feminine and small. When she tastes tears, she breaks away. Twining her fingers in his, she leads Moz to the bed and they sit, side by side.

Do you think you’ll ever speak to him again? She asks, with all the gentleness she can muster.

He shakes his head mutely. 

There are other people who will understand you, though. Not just him. And there are other people who will want you. 

He nods and pulls her small frame close, and she stays silent. And allows him to imagine that somehow, they fit together.

**Author's Note:**

> Set during the North American leg of the Kill Uncle tour in 1991. I got really nerdy with this one and synced the story up to the actual tour dates, rain cancellations and all. Google "morrissey phranc" to see Linder Sterling's photos that inspired this story. There are tons from that tour, and they are pretty great. 
> 
> Phranc's brother was killed during the time she toured with Morrissey. It felt disrespectful to include that element in the story, but it did inform my writing, as did the song "Let Me Kiss You" and other music from You Are The Quarry, which has a lot of queerballs, California-inspired lyrics.
> 
> Finally, I find it interesting to write about gender fluidity and sexuality from the perspective of LGBTQ folks in the 80's and 90's. I'm a queer, non-binary trans person, and the characters' views on gender are their own, not mine.


End file.
